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ASCENT 



BAROMETlllCAL MEASUREMENT 



MOUNT SEWARD, 



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KHOM TIIK 

'rWKN'rV-FOUKTlI annum. RKl'OKT 

ON THE ^ 

NEW YORK STATE MUSEUM OF NATURAL HISTORY, 

FoK THE Veau lyTO. 



ASCENT 



BAROMETKICAL MEASUREMENT 



MOUNT SEWARD. 



"VEE-i^'Xj^isroiC GOL^^Ainsr 



3? K, I N a^ E D IN ADVANCE OF U:' II H: It K I^ O K, T 



ALBANY: 

THE AKGUS COMPANY, PRINTEliS. 

1872. 




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ASCIOT OF MT. SEWAKl) AND ITS BAllOMETllICAL 

MEASUREMENT. 



Samuel B. Woolworth, LL.D,, 

Secretary of the Board of Regents of tJte State of New York : 

Dear Sir. — I herewith respectfully submit to yon the report of 
my recent explorations in the Adirondack wilderness of Northern 
New York. 

The main object of the expedition was the barometric measure- 
ment of Mt. Seward, a lofty peak, of the ascent of wliicli there is no 
record, and the height of which remained in doubt. Prof. Emmons, 
while engaged in the survxy of the second geological district of the 
State, estimated the elevation at 5,100 feet above tide ; but as he 
neither ascended the mountain, nor attempted its measurement by 
triangulation, there seems to have been no basis for such a conjecture. 

Mt. Seward — called by the Mohawk Indians Ou-kor-lah^ or the 
" big-eye " — is nearly upon the most southern boundary of the county 
of Franklin, in Great tract No. 1, township twenty-seven of Macomb's 
purchase ; north latitude about 44° 10', and longitude, west from 
Greenwich, 74° 0', It is, with the numerous lesser peaks connected 
with it, the most westwardly of the Adirondack, hyperite group. 
East trom it is Wallface mountain of the Indian Pass, and more dis- 
tant, Mt. Tahawus or Marcy, the summit of the range and of the 
State, raising its gray peak 5,467 feet above the sea. South of Mt. 
Seward are the Preston ponds and their outlet, Cold river, which 
empties into the Raquette just below Long lake. The Haquette 
river might, perhaps, be called its western boundary ; its northern 
limit, but for Moose mountain and Ampersand pond, would be the 
well-known Saranac lakes.* 

In this expedition my route was from Albany, via Saratoga up the 
Hudson, and to Indian lake in Hamilton county ; thence crossing 

* In the accompanyinsf plate the numerous lofty peaks forming the back-grouncl of the picture, 
taken together constitute what is locally known as Mt. Seward. Some of the highest points are here 
shown, but the summit, lying back, nearly eastward of them, is probably not visible from any point 
on Long lake. The ascent was made from the right, up and along the range of minor peaks shown. 

huM-pah-cho is the old Indian name for Long lake, and has heretofore been little used. It implies 
lake-of-basswoods, or linden-water. 



4 Ascent and Barometrical 

the woods to the beautiful and deservedly fiimous Blue Mountain 
lakes. Here guide and canoe awaited me, and, after tarrying to 
make the ascent of Blue mountain (Mt. Emmons), I passed over the 
lakes, and, by way of Marion river, reached Lake Raquette. It may 
be liere remarked tliat the whole distance, from Blue mountain to the 
foot of Mt. Seward, might almost be made without leaving the canoe 
or boat ; lakes and rivers, for some fifty or sixty miles, forming the 
tortuous highway. 

At Lake Raquette I found the guide whom I had selected to 
accompany me in the ascent of the mountain, — an elderly man, mus- 
cular, energetic, born and bred a hunter and skilled in wood-craft. 
A short day's journey, by Forked lake and Raquette river, brought 
myself and guide to the settlement on Long lake. Here I consulted 
Mitchell Sabbattis, the famous Indian, and others acquainted with 
the region near Mt. Seward, and was confirmed in a plan which I 
had formed of attempting the ascent at the south side, from the 
direction of tiie Preston ponds. Sabbattis atfirmed tliat Mt. Seward 
had never been ascended, and certainly never measured, or he would 
have known of it. One of the lower peaks had been ascended and 
called Mt. Seward.* 

The morning of October 13tb, 1870, was bright and pleasant, and 
found us struggling to push our boat up the rapids of Cold river ; a 
beautiful crystalline stream — haunt of the trout — wdiich, fed by the 
springs on the mountain slopes, rushes sparkling down to pour its icy 
flood into Raquette river, a short distance below Long lake. From 
the foot of that lake we had seen the outlying ridges of Mt. Seward ; 
now the forest which walled in the river concealed it from view. At 
length our progess became so slow, and the rapids so frequent, that 
drawing the boat ashore, we hid it, with my rifle and other luggage, 
in a thick copse. 

Having lunched, we started to follow the north bank of the river, 
toward the Preston ponds, taking a sled-road leading to certain 
deserted lumber shanties, distant seven or eight miles, where we 
expected to camp that night. 

We were armed each with a hunting knife and revolver, — the guide 

* Since writing the above 1 have been informed that Prof. A. Guyot had previously made the ascent 
of Mt. Seward, and, in answer to an inquiry, he has kindly given me some notes of his expedition. 
The starting point was Adirondack village, and the time occupied two days. Mr. Ernest Sandoz, his 
nephew, undertook the ascent and measurement, but had the misfortune to cut his foot, which made 
the ascent the more difficult, after which he suftered an additional disheartening misfortune, in 
breaking his barometer before reaching the top of the mountain. My observations, therefore, seem 
to be the first ever taken upon the summit of Mt. Seward. 



Measurement of Mount Seward. 5 

carrying in a pack three clays' provisions, rubber and woolen blankets, 
and in his hand a hatchet, I was encumbered only with my baro- 
meter and satchel containing sketch-book and maps. 

Our course along the river bank was a slow but constant ascent, as 
was proved by the numberless rapids and several falls which at short 
distances made the hurrying M'ater whiten to foam. Step l)y step 
the stream descended its channel, and now our approach to the true 
Adirondacks became obvious. In the bed of the river were nume- 
rous huge boulders of labradorite rock or feldspar — sometimes called 
hypersthene granite — of the familiar bluish, ashen hue, which gives 
the beds of these mountain streams so peculiar an appearance. 
Before nightfall we had reached the terminus of the sled road, not 
far westward from the Preston ponds, but returned to make our camp 
in one of the old, long deserted lumber shanties. During the night 
sparks from the camp-iire caught in the roof; fortunately the flames 
were extinguished before they were beyond control, or the instruments 
on which the success of the expedition depended, might have been 
destroyed. 

October 14th. — The camp was about thirty feet above Cold river, 
the banks of the stream being very steep. When we awoke, clouds 
and fog enveloped everything, and a drizzling rain was falling. 
Before 9 a. m. the fog lifted, the rain ceased, and finally, the clouds 
broke a little, though the mountains were still obscured. There was 
no wind. This was the first station where observations were made, 
four readings being taken. 



Hour. 


Barometer. 


Attd. Thar. 


Detd. Ther. 


8 . 80 A. M 


28 . 150 inch. 

28.175 " 
28 . 200 " 

28 . 225 " 


52° 5 Fall. 
53° " 
53° " 

54° 5 " 


53° Fah. 


8.42 " 


54° 5 " 


8.45 " 


54° 5 " 


8.50 " 


54° " 







I had previously determined the compass direction of the moun- 
tain, and notwithstanding the dubious state of the weather, set out 
immediately to commence the ascent. At the south, or south-east, 
Mts. Henderson and Santanoni were, alone of all the peaks, visible ; 
and even their summits were hidden in the clouds. Taking a north- 
easterly course, we struck directly into the forest toward a small 
mountain, whence we might be able better to select the way. Our 



6 Ascent and Barometrical 

progress was slow, for, as there was no trail, my guide took tlie pre- 
caution to blaze tlie path, by cliopping upon the trees every fifty or 
a hundred feet, and continued so to do, with great labor, through- 
out the day. 

At length, reaching the height we had in view, we were disap- 
pointed to find it overlooked by another crest, more lofty than the 
one which we had climbed, and separated from us by a slight depres- 
sion. Believing that from its top we would be able to discover Mt. 
Seward, we addressed ourselves to tlie task and laboriously climbed 
it, only to discover two loftier peaks towering opposite, beyond and 
above which the clouds, as they drifted, at times opened to view a 
misty summit higher than all. It was evident that we were already 
upon the slopes of the mountain. A narrow valley was between us 
and the opposite peaks ; descending into it, we found the forest car- 
peted with deep, wet, spliagnous moss. Again ascending, the slope 
became all but precipitous ; yet, by means of small trees, mainly 
silver-birches, we drew ourselves up. 

Here the guide called my attention to a tree with its bark and 
wood torn by the claws of some large beast. In another place a bear 
had bitten a fallen tree to the core, and elsewhere left marks of his 
teeth on the wood. The tracks of deer and other wild animals were 
also observed, some of which were very recent ; the deep moss was 
like snow and retained the impressions. 

With much labor we at length climl)ed a ridge and saw no more 
peaks above us ; the valley we had left was far down, and the sur- 
rounding country, wherever the eye could reach, spangled with lakes. 
Now the forest began to show that we had attained an altitude 
where vegetable life recoiled ; the trees, principally Canada balsam, 
spruce and white birch, were dwarfed and stunted, being barelj' 
fifteen or twenty feet high. The abundant, deep moss was a sponge 
of icy water, so cold as to make our feet ache as we stood. In clam- 
bering upon hands and knees, as we were often compelled to do, we 
were wetted to the skin, waist high. Our breath was visible in the 
cold air, which chilled us through our wet clothing ; yet the day, 
though windy, was now bright and clear. 

Alter a hasty repast, we hurried along the ridge to gain the highest 
point upon it, being anxious to accomplish our work and descend 
part-way the same afternoon ; not wishing to camp in that wet, cold 
region, where sleep, if possible, would be extremely hazardous. 

About 3 p. M. we seemed to have gained the highest point on the 



Measurement of Mount Se \va iw. 7 

ridge, tlumgli tlie tliick, miniature forest, obscured tiie view, telling 
by its presence — before I had glanced at the instruments— that we 
were still far beneath the height ascril)ed to the mountain, baromet- 
rical observations were here taken ; cloud fragments drifting through 
the forest, the while. 



Hour. 


Barometer. 


Attd. Ther. 


Detd. Ther. 


3 . 26 P. M 


25.900 incli. 
25.940 " 
25 . 950 " 
25*. 950 " 


44° Fah. 

42° " 
40° " 
39°. 5 " 


40° Fah. 


3.30 " 


38° " 


3.35 " 


37° " 


3.40 " 


37° '' 







Plardly had the above been noted before my guide, who 
had wandered off, returned to announce a still higher point in 
view. The barometer was returned to its case, and w^e hurried on. 
The balsam trees continued to dwindle in height, until we stood 
upon an open crest. Tiie world seemed all below us ; but northward, 
half a mile away, a lofty summit reared itself, grizzly with dead and 
withered balsams, struggling to keep their hold upon the rock that 
here and there looked out gloomily ; it was Mt. Seward. Between 
us and it was an abyss through which clouds floated. 

It was a grand, though disheartening spectacle ; so near, yet seem- 
ingly inaccessible. The afternoon was nearly spent ; it was evident 
that we would now be compelled to camp amid the clouds. How- 
ever, evening and twnlight continue upon the mountains long after 
the valleys are dark with shadows, and we determined to improve 
the time by attempting the passage of the gorge. At length, as the 
clouds parted, w-e noticed a narrow ridge, or " horse-back," far below, 
which crossed the deep valley, and on which it seemed that one 
might pass over. 

Starting to descend, we discovered snow in small quantity, the 
remains of a last winter's drift, lying exposed to the air, discolored 
and icy. Its preservation thus must be exceptional. Descending 
amidst precipitous rocks, we reached the " horse-back," and, by 
hastening, were able at nightfall to cross the deep valley. With the 
last rays of the sun upon us, we formed a camp just below the true 
summit of the mountain, on the edge of the impenetrable thicket ot 
dwarf balsams. 



8 Ascent and Barometrical 

There was no spring, but water was easily procured by pulling up 
moss ; the space thus made being soon tilled with excellent cold 
water which, when settled, was sufficiently clear for use. The night 
came down dark and chill, and a strong westerly wind made the 
camp-fire burn fiercely. The rubber blanket, spread upon a thick 
bed of balsam boughs, kept me from the wet moss, and some of the 
small trees, piled bodily to windward, tempered the blast ; the rear 
of the cam]j being a large rock. 

At about eight o'clock in the evening the sky was lightened by 
that brilliant aurora borealis which excited such attention through- 
out the northern hemisphere by its wonderful iridescence, and 
brought the inhabitants of beleaguered Paris upon their ramparts, 
to gaze with awe at a manifestation by many deemed of dire import. 
It shot up from the north-west, and, passing over to the east, formed 
a broad crimson belt overhead ; while the whole dome of the heavens 
was lit with silvery glory, which flashed and swayed in seeming con- 
cord with the eddies of a gale then whirling round the mountain. 
With every wave and brightening of the aurora a sighing, whisper- 
ing sound was heard, like the rustling of great folds of silk, which 
my guide assured me was the " noise of the northern light." At the 
north-western horizon pencils of blue darted up toward the zenith, 
but I was in doubt whether the color was not tiiat of the sky, seen 
through intervals in the auroral cloud. The rays seemed to center a 
few degrees south of the zenith. The display lasted long into tiie 
night. The guide, who was without coat or blanket, kept himself 
warm by chopping fire-wood, and we hailed the day with 
pleasure. 

October 15th. — We had not far to ascend from our camp, before 
we reached a dense growth of dwarf balsam trees, which form a bar- 
rier to the summit. They were at first about seven or eight feet 
high ; with much labor we pushed or chopped our way through 
them, their branches being stifi" and numberless and intricately 
locked. At 8 a. m. we walked upon the trees, which had dwindled 
to great shrubs, flattened to the ground, with long, spreading, lateral 
branches, and stood at last upon the summit. 

The view hence was magnificent, yet diflering from other of the 
loftier Adirondacks, in that no clearings were discernible ; wilderness 
everywhere ; lake on lake, river on river, mountain on mountain, 
numberless. I*^orthward was Whiteface mountain ; then shone the 
lower Saranac lake, half hidden by Moose mountain, while below glit- 



Measurement of Mo unt Se \va rd. 9 

tered Ampersand ''•' pond. Looking eastward the mass of the Adiron- 
dack was seen, a sea of peaks; nearer, the serrate crest of Mt. Mcln 
tyre reared itself; but nearer still was Wallface monntain, viewed not 
from the east, but from the west ; the reverse slopes descending; 
steeply into a dark but broad valley, which seemed even deeper than the 
Adirondack or Indian Pass upon the other side of the mountain, 
yet, thouf;h i^loomy with precipices, lacking the tremendous cliffs 
which give so much interest to the more famous gorge. A similar 
k)cality, somewhere in this neighborhood, was called by the Indians 
OiUuska. As Indian terminology is now generally preferred to 
modern names, I suggest this for the pass discovered. 

The day was clear but cold, and a strongly westerly wind blowing. 
The hypsometric observations were as follows : 



Hour. 


Barometer. 


Attd. Ther. 


Detcl. Ther. 


9.10 
9.12 


A. M 


25.600 inch. 

25.600 " 
25.625 " 
25 . 625 '• 
25.640 " 
25.600 " 


47° Fall. 
46° " 
44° " 
43° 5 " 
43° " 
42° " 


45° Fah. 
44° 5 " 


9 15 




43° " 


9.17 




42° " 


9.20 
9.30 


" 


42° " 

42° " 









The height of the mountain had indeed been over-estimated. Of 
the 5,100 feet attributed to it, it lacked 638 feet; the elevation as 
measured being 4,462 feet above tide-level, or the sea. 

The substance of the mountain was found to be labradorite rock ; 
fragments broken from the summit exhibited crystals of opalescent 
feldspar, with beautiful play of colors ; magnetic iron also occurred in 
small frao-ments scattered throuo;h the rock. It was late in the sea- 
son for botanical observations, but the flora appeared similar to that 
of the neighboring summits which I have visited. 

Of the provisions carried with us, there now remained only suffi- 
cient for one light meal. Since leaving the boat, it had taken us 
two days and a portion of a third to make the ascent, and we were 
now in the depths of the wilderness. 

About 10 A. M. we commenced the descent, taking a new course 
west of south, and, under powerful incentives, by dint of rapid and 

* " Ampersand." I believe this to be incorrect etymology, and do not think that it is derived from 
the and-per-se-ancl termination of old alphabets ; but attribute the name to the bright, yellow sandy 
shores and islands, which make it truly Amber-sand lalie. 



10 



Ascent and Barometrical 



hazardous traveling, at nightfall reached the boat, where our extra 
provisions and baggage were found undisturbed. 

During the descent, near the foot of the mountain, we observed 
some scattering giant white-pines, some of which seemed to be 
between 150 and 200 feet in height, with diameter in proportion. 
The rest of the forest was dwarfed by their presence. On my return 
to Albany, I passed out of the wilderness by the Fulton chain of 
lakes, into Lewis county, and thence via Utica. 

The barometer used was a mercurial cistern instrument, deer-skin 
bottom and brass scale. Before starting upon the expedition it was 
compared with the standard at the Dudley Observatory, and fortu- 
nately, for in returning it was broken. The deductions from the 
observations hereinbefore given have been calculated by Prof. Hough 
of the Dudley Observatory, which was the station for corrections. 
I inclose a note giving the results : 

" Dudley Observatory, ) 
Dec. 15th, 1870. j 

" Dear Sir. — In accordance with your request, I have computed 
the height of your stations on Mt. Seward, from tlie barometrical 
observations you furnished me. 

" The observations were reduced to thirty-two degrees Fahrenheit, 
and compared directly with the records given by our automatic 
registering instruments. 

" The followino; is the data used : 



DATE, 

October, 1870. 


stations. 


Mt. Sewakd. 


DUDLET ObSERVATOBT. 


Ko. of 
readings. 


Barometer 
32 dog. 


Temp, of 
air. 


Barometer 
32 deg. 


Temp, of 
air. 


14th, 8.45 a.m. 
14th, 3.30 p.m. 
15th, 9.15a.m. 


No. 1 
" 2 
" 3 


4 
4 

6 


28.144 
25.905 

25.580 


54° 
38° 
43° 


29.769 

29.779 
29.980 


55 
55 
50 



" As your barometer had previously been compared with our 
standard, and found to give essentially the same readings, no correc- 
tion for scale has been necessary. 

" At the time of the observations at the three stations, the varia- 
tion of pressure was as follows : 



Measurement of Mount Sew a kd. 



11 



"Station No. 1, barometer rising 0.004 inches hourly. 
2, " rising 0.010 " " 

" 3, " falling 0.002 " " 

'' As the longitude of Mt. Seward does not differ more than one 
minute of time from that of the Dudley Observatory, the observations 
may be directly compared with our own, without any sensible error. 



" The folio 


wing 


results 


have 


been deduced : 






STATION. 






Heif;;ht above the 
Dudley Observat'y- 


Heiijbt above 
tide-water. 


Number 1 


1 , 544 feet. 
3,773- " 
4,292 " 


1 ,714 feet. 


" 2 


3,943 " 


" 3 ... 


4,402 " 







" The height of the barometer at the Dudley Observatory is 
assumed to be 170 feet above tide in the Hudson river. 

Very truly yours, 

G. W. HOUGH, 

Director^ 
" Vekplanck Colvin, Es(|." 

Before closing this report, I desire to call your attention to a sub- 
ject of much importance. The Adirondack wilderness contains the 
springs which are the sources of our principal rivers, and the feeders 
of the canals. Each summer the water supply for these rivers and 
canals is lessened, and commerce has suffered. The United States 
government has been called upon, and has expended vast sums in 
the improvement of the navigation of the Hudson ; yet the secret 
oi'igin of the difficulty seems not to have been reached. 

The immediate cause has been the chopping and l)urning off of 
vast tracts of forest in the wilderness, which have hitherto sheltered 
from the sun's heat and evaporation the deep and lingering snows, 
the brooks and rivulets, and the thick, soaking, sphagnous moss 
which, at times knee-deep, half water and half plant, forms hanging 
lakes upon the mountain sides ; throwing out constantly a chilly 
atmosphere, which condenses to clouds the warm vapor of the winds, 
and still reacting, resolves them into rain. 

It is impossible for those who have not visited this region to 
realize the abundance, luxuriance and depth which these peaty 
lYiosses — the true sources of our rivers — attain under the shade of 



12 Ascent AND Barometrical Measurement of Mt. Seward. 

those dark, northern, evergreen forests. The term " hanging-lake" 
will not be deemed inappropriate, in consideration of the fact that 
in the wet season a large mass of this moss, when compressed by the 
hands, becomes but a small handful, the rest of its bulk being alto- 
gether water ; often many inches deep, it covers the rocks and boul- 
ders on the mountain sides, and every foot-print made has soon a 
shallow pool of icy water in it. 

With the destruction of the forests, these mosses dry, wither and 
disappear ; with them vanishes the cold, condensing atmosphere 
which forms the clouds. Now the winter snows that accumulate on 
the mountains, unprotected from the sun, melt suddenly and rush 
down laden with disaster. For lumber, once so plentiful, we must 
at no distant day become tributary to other States or the Canadas. 
The land, deprived of all that gave it value, reverts to the State for 
unpaid taxes. 

The remedy for this is the creation of an Adikondack Pakk or 
timher preserve., under charge of a forest warden and deputies. The 
" burning off" of mountains should be visited wnth suitable penal- 
ties ; the cutting of pines under ten inches or one foot in diameter 
should be prohibited. The officers of the law might be supported 
by a per capita tax, upon sportsmen, artists and tourists visiting the 
region ; a tax which they would willingly pay if the game should be 
protected from unlawful slaughter, and the grand primeval forest be 
saved from ruthless desolation. 

The interests of commerce and navigation demand that these 
forests should be preserved ; and for posterity should be set aside, 
this Adirondack region, as a park for New York, as is the Yosemite 
for California and the Pacific States. 

VERPLANCK COLVIN. 

Albany, Dec. 16^,4, 1870. 



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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



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